


Move (Please)

by Qayin



Series: Please [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, CONSENSUAL Flogging, Consensual spanking, Flogging, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qayin/pseuds/Qayin
Summary: According to A Very Complete Beginners Guide to Erotic Spanking by Erica W. Smith, erotic spanking is one of the more common BDSM kinks out there. Smith says it’s inexpensive because it doesn’t require toys - although Smith was quick to point out that sextoys could be used to “flair up” the thing.Stiles had spent the rest of the night thinking of things that could potentially “flair things up”.Practically every kitchen-cutlery, he realised in thrilling mortification. Spatulas. Spoons. The cutting board his dad had handed him that night and asked if he could cut up a sallad on.Books. Belts. Stiles’ lacrosse stick.Being spanked can also apparently release endorphins, so not only is Stiles apparently kinky, he’s also trying to get high.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Please [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098923
Comments: 16
Kudos: 194





	Move (Please)

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read part one to read this! Basically all that happened was that Stiles annoyed Derek at a pack-meeting, and Derek pulled Stiles into his lap and spanked him. Stiles kind of realised he liked that, and so came back, got consensually spanked and gave Derek a blow job. 
> 
> But tbh, I think part 1 is pretty funny, so by all means, go read it if that sounds like your thing.

Stiles and Derek don’t talk about what happened between them in the following weeks, but whenever there’s a pack meeting Derek sits on the couch like he owns the fucking world and Derek’s eyes keep flittering over to Stiles’ mouth when Stiles speak. Neither comment on the fact that Stiles remain within arms-reach. 

Is it weird? Stiles can’t tell. He’s done research. Derek unknowingly opened up a can of worms the moment he defined what Stiles felt as a  _ kink _ , and Stiles have not known peace since. 

According to  _ A Very Complete Beginners Guide to Erotic Spanking _ by Erica W. Smith, erotic spanking is one of the more common BDSM kinks out there. Smith says it’s inexpensive because it doesn’t require toys - although Smith was quick to point out that sextoys  _ could _ be used to “flair up” the thing. 

Stiles had spent the rest of the night thinking of things that could potentially “flair things up”. 

Practically every kitchen-cutlery, he realised in thrilling mortification. Spatulas. Spoons. The cutting board his dad had handed him that night and asked if he could cut up a sallad on. 

Books. Belts. Stiles’  _ lacrosse stick _ . 

Being spanked can also apparently release endorphins, so not only is Stiles apparently kinky, he’s also trying to get high. Well, naturally high. 

Smith also says that communication is key. But Derek and he don’t communicate. Like, literally, the whole reason they even ended up unleashing Stiles’ apparent BDSM kink was because Stiles were talking too much and Derek wanted to  _ shut him up _ . 

And Stiles never wants to shut up. His entire life, no shutting, more talking; that’s always been his motto. 

And yet, Stiles keep thinking of being pinned down by Derek, either on his lap, or held stuck as Derek fucks his face again, or Derek over him, holding him down and not releasing him no matter how much Stiles struggles, and he can barely look at his crosse without blushing. 

The thing that stuck out the most in the article though was Smith talking about finding a partner you trust to do it with. 

Stiles had kind of approached the whole situation haphazardly - Derek was the one who had pulled him down first, so Derek was the one he asked later when he wanted a repeat. But he  _ did _ trust Derek. 

Even though Derek was being a dick about it, looking all smug and confident. Ugh. 

The meeting was drawing to a close, and Stiles had barely contributed at all. He had his laptop in his lap, sitting next to Derek on the sofa. He had a random wiki-page up, but he’d been staring blindly at it for the past ten minutes and was only occasionally glancing in the corner of his eye over to Derek. 

Scott was the one who broke the meeting up in the end, and everyone started to stand up. Except Stiles. He stayed on the couch, and Scott turned to face him. 

“Coming, Stiles?” he asks, kindly. Roscoe was currently out of commission, and Scott and he had arrived together. But Stiles looks past his computer screen, at Scott’s face, and shakes his head. 

“Nah, I’ll stay and try and find out more about this thing,” Stiles says. He’s barely even aware of what  _ the thing _ is, but him staying behind isn’t in itself unusual. If he’s close to a breakthrough he tends to want to stay until he’s done, and Scott doesn’t actually know Stiles’ search-endeavours have come up with zero. 

Still, Scott hesitates.

“You sure?” he asks. “How will you get home?” 

Good question. Stiles hasn't reached that part of his plan yet. But Derek, who has been collecting the soda-cans from the table, glances their way. 

“I can drive you home later,” he says. He neither sounds pleased nor like he has any opinion whatsoever on Stiles staying at his place at all. 

Stiles looks to him and holds Derek’s gaze, and it’s Derek who breaks eye contact first. Interesting. 

“Thanks, man,” Stiles says, softly, distractedly, and Scott mistakes it for Stiles jumping into the research. 

“Okay,” Scott says and leaves along with Lydia and the rest. 

Stiles stares at his laptop, then eventually, probably twenty minutes later, he closes it down and stands up. Derek’s in the kitchen, so Stiles makes his way over there and stops in the doorframe to watch him. 

Derek seems to be cooking, and he’s slicing neat little cubes of cucumber on a cutting board. Stiles tries not to think about cutting boards. 

“Have you ever been with a guy before?” Stiles asks suddenly and the question surprises even him. “I mean, before… me?” 

Derek glances at him for a second and raises an eyebrow, then his gaze returns to the vegetables. 

“Yes, a few.” he says. Stiles nods, thoughtfully. 

“Have you?” Derek asks then, and that surprises Stiles even more than his own question. 

“No.” 

Derek picks up the cutting board and Stiles heart skips a beat, but all Derek does is push the cucumbers into a bowl already filled with different vegetables. Derek looks at him again. 

“Have you been with girls before?” Derek asks and the way he asks it kind of reminds Stiles of someone trying to ask if you’re a virgin. 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, then frowns. “Kinda. I mean, yes.” 

Derek just continues to watch him. Stiles shifts on his feet. 

“Well,” Stiles continues. “ _ Malia _ .” 

Derek’s face doesn’t reveal anything at all. He nods like he just now remembered Malia existed to begin with, which is stupid, because Stiles  _ knows _ he knows Malia exists. They’re related, for crying out loud. 

“Have  _ you _ been with girls before?” Stiles asks, and he knows the answer, and Derek just scoffs at him and rolls his eyes. Stiles feel the corners of his mouth rise up just a little. “Alright then, have you spanked other people before? Sexually?” 

“Believe it or not, Stiles, but you’re the only one who has asked me,” Derek says drily and Stiles gets a kick out of that for some reason. 

“But you’ve spanked people non-sexually before?” Stiles practically purrs and imitates a slap in mid-air. “You’ve got a very solid technique.” 

Derek shoots him a look which tells Stiles a lot more than he thought it would. 

“Oh my god, you haven’t!” he says gleefully. He presses a hand over his heart. “Aw, Derek, am I your first?” 

“You know, I could just not drive you home,” Derek says. It’s a threat to stop Stiles from bugging him, but it causes Stiles to grin widely. 

“Want to keep me here, do you?” 

Derek blinks and for a second he looks hesitant, then Derek Fucking Hale actually blushes. 

“That’s not what I -” he cuts himself off and turns back to the food he’s preparing instead of trying to continue the conversation. 

Stiles rests his head against the doorframe and watches him thoughtfully. It makes sense, he suppose. 

_ ‘I’m Alpha,’ _ Derek had said the first time he had done it, but Derek hadn’t always  _ been _ an Alpha. And he couldn’t quite envision Derek trying to pull Boyd or - god forbid - Erica over his lap to give them a good spank. 

But apparently he could do it to Stiles. Very interesting.

Stiles watches Derek’s hands as he picks up salad tongs and starts mixing his veggies. His posture is stiff, like he’s facing a monster instead of just squabbling with Stiles. He’s looking as stoic and kind of… suffering, and Stiles feels like he’s losing his own bravado.

Last time had been easy because Stiles’ desire and frustration that he couldn’t get Derek to repeat the incident had fuelled him, and Derek  _ had _ said that he should come back to him, but… 

“Do you regret last time?” Stiles asks. He stares at the other, waiting to see Derek’s shoulders slump down and admit to having hated it. 

Derek doesn’t do that, though. He lowers the tongs and turns to face Stiles. His eyes look stormy and his dark eyebrows furrowed together. 

“No,” he says and Stiles releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Derek moves to say something, but Stiles cuts him off. 

“Wanna have sex?” he blurts out. Derek glance at his bowl of veggies. 

“What about the salad?” he says. 

“Fuck the salad,” Stiles says. 

Derek and he stare at each other, and Stiles feels his own knees shake a little underneath him and his heart beats loudly in his ears. He knows Derek can hear all of it, is  _ aware _ of Stiles growing arousal. 

Stiles squares his shoulders and puts his nose in the air. 

“Otherwise I could go onto the internet…” he says casually. 

Derek growls. Stiles’ eyes lock onto Derek’s, whose eyes are now alpha red. Stiles heart skips a beat and then Derek pounce on him. Stiles shrieks and dashes towards the living room. He’s almost by the couch when Derek catches hold of him from behind and lifts him up like he weighs nothing. 

Stiles struggles uselessly and laughs, and Derek buries his nose in Stiles’ neck, inhales sharply and toss him down on the couch. Stiles twists around, onto his back, and they watch each other for a second before Derek’s over him.

Stiles clings onto Derek’s shoulders, and then they’re kissing. 

The kiss is rough and Stiles rakes his nails over Derek’s back and aches up into him. Derek pulls away long enough to tug off his shirt and Stiles shivers and allows himself to actually watch him this time. 

Derek definitely man-scapes. His chest is void of hair, looking as smooth as silk, except the string of black hair leading from his belly button and down beneath his trousers. He’s built like freaking Superman and as he pulls the shirt over his shoulders the muscles flex underneath his skin. Stiles kind of wants to lick him. So obviously, Stiles does. 

He pushes himself up as much as he can, then attaches himself to Derek by grabbing hold of his waist and kiss-slash-lick over Derek’s freshly exposed skin. Derek puts his hand at Stiles’ neck and tugs him closer. 

Stiles trails his mouth along Derek’s pec to one of his nipples, and he laps his tongue over it. Derek sighs and Stiles takes that as a green light. 

Stiles realises that he likes having things in his mouth. He also realises that Derek is very sensitive, which he takes to his fullest advantage. His hands travel over Derek’s freaking six-pack - which, yes, looks hot, but very unhealthy, does the dude eat at all, or does he just work out? - and Stiles bites down on the nipple in his mouth. 

Derek moans and tightens his grip on Stiles’ hair. 

“Okay, shirt off.” Derek says and starts tugging at Stiles’ shirt. Stiles raises his hands into the air and the moment Derek’s torn his shirt off Derek’s on top of him again, pinning him down and kissing down his throat. 

Stiles moans and aches up into him, and Derek grinds their crotches together. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles mumbles and Derek starts to unbotton his jeans. Stiles lifts his hips and wriggles around a bit so Derek can pull them and his boxers off completely, and then Stiles is sprawled out naked in front of Derek once again.

He squirms under Derek’s gaze, feeling it like a heavy weight over him, and then Derek… uh, Derek pounces at him, is the best way to describe it. Derek uses the entirety of his bulk to pin Stiles down into the sofa. His mouth latches back onto Stiles skin, kissing down his neck. 

Then, Stiles is pretty sure it’s an accident, but Derek’s teeth scrape over his jugular and Stiles goes haywire. He moans wantonly and aches into Derek’s warm skin. Derek even seems a little surprised at the reaction. 

“Do it again,” Stiles begs. Derek remains still for a moment, then bites hickeys all over Stiles neck and shoulders. Stiles moans again and squirms, which causes Derek to suddenly grab hold of his wrists, force them up over his head and pin them down. 

Stiles gets the message;  _ stay still _ . But just because he  _ gets _ the message doesn’t mean he obeys. He arches off the couch, pressing his hips and crotch up at Derek. His dick touches the warm skin of Derek’s exposed stomach and Stiles moans. 

“You fucking tease,” Derek mutters to Stiles absolute fucking delight. 

“I’m the tease?” he asked, his heart beating widely in his chest. “You’re the one smirking at me from across the room. And the one still wearing pants. And the one  _ holding _ things all fucking day.” 

Derek stops his assault of Stiles’ neck to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“ _ Holding _ things?” he asks. Stiles gives him a suspicious look. 

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know about _the_ _things_.” he says. Derek’s eyebrow does not go down. His light green eyes stare at him levelly which causes Stiles to eventually start to blush. That, and he’s imagining all the things Derek’s been holding today which could be used as a paddle. 

“Stiles, I don’t know about the things,” Derek says. 

“Oh, so it was an accident that you were holding those salad tongs?” Stiles says and at least some part of him realises that he’s starting to sound a little unhinged, but all other parts are still convinced that Derek is up to some nefarious scheme. “And don’t even get me started on the cutting board!” 

“The cutting board?” Derek mumbles, then a light flickers in his eyes as he gets what Stiles is talking about. A smirk crawls over his face. 

“Why Stiles, what do you want me to do with the cutting board?” he purrs, practically obscene. Stiles' breath hitch a little in his throat and Derek looks even more smug. It doesn’t help that he still hasn't released Stiles’ arms, and the grip is causing Stiles’ heart to pound in his ears. 

“You know what I want you to do with the cutting board,” Stiles stutters eventually. Derek appears to mull it over, looking thoughtful. Slowly he shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t think I do,” he says. His voice has a tone of mischief Stiles has never heard from him before. “And even if I did, I shouldn’t have to guess at these things. 

“In fact,” Derek says and Stiles knows he’s truly fucked, “I don’t think I’ll do anything you don’t ask me to do.” 

Derek smirks at him. Stiles buckles his hips up again, and Derek, the bastard, arches off of him. He still doesn’t let Stiles’ wrists go, though. 

For a moment they struggle against each other; where Stiles tries to get as good contact as he can with Derek while still being held down, and Derek tries to avoid giving his dick any kind of friction. 

Stiles whines, long and suffering. Derek tilts his head. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he smirks. Stiles tries to buckle his hips again, to no avail, and he realises that he’s going to have to beg for it. 

Stiles swallows, feeling his heart roar in his ears. 

“Derek, please flog me with one of your fucking  _ things _ .” Stiles says as sickly sweet as he can. Because apparently spanking with tools is called flogging. The more you google. Derek purses his lips thoughtfully. 

“But Stiles, which of all of my things should I use?” Derek asks, just as sweetly. Stiles wants to hit him in the face, but not as much as he wants Derek to hit him on the ass with the cutting board, so he takes a deep breath and swallows his pride. 

“The cutting board,” he says. Derek’s eyes glisten and he releases Stiles' wrists and sits up. Stiles whines at the loss of pressure and for a second he thinks Derek will kick him out, but then Derek stands fluidly. 

“Get up and bend over the back-rest.” he says and disappears off to the kitchen. Stiles takes a moment, then bounces up from the couch. 

What’s the best way to bend over a couch, Stiles ponders. Is he supposed to put his knees in it and lean over it, or is he supposed to walk around and lean over from the wrong side with his feet planted on the ground? 

Eventually Stiles decides on the latter, mostly because that ensures that he moons Derek the moment Derek returns from the kitchen and that sounds kind of fun. 

He hears Derek come back, so quickly he heaves over the couch and sticks his ass in the air. He plants his hands on the seat to ease his stanch, and he doesn’t have to be a werewolf to hear Derek inhale sharply when he sees Stiles’ ass on his return. 

Stiles feels oddly smug and very innocently shakes his ass. Just a little. 

Derek walks over to him, and Stiles wants to turn and look at him, but then Derek cups his ass and Stiles gets kind of preoccupied. Derek caresses first his left ass-cheek, then the right. He rakes his fingers everywhere, trailing gentle touches over his skin til Stiles breaks out in goosebumps. 

Stiles is panting, hard, very quickly under Derek’s touch. 

“I think you should cup your balls,” Derek says suddenly. Stiles even takes a moment to realise he’s talking. He glances over his shoulder at him. 

“What?” he asks. Derek raises the cutting board, wiggles it around a little, and Stiles is almost creaming all over Derek’s couch without any assistance. 

“Your balls,” Derek repeats. “I think you should cup them, so they don’t accidentally get slapped.” 

“You mean flogged,” Stiles corrects. 

“Whatever.” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Unless you want me hitting your balls?” 

Stiles watches him. He’s not sure ball-hitting is his thing. He frowns. 

“Maybe not right now,” he agrees. Derek smirks. 

“So cup your balls,” he says again. Stiles maneuvers a hand off of the couch and to his balls. He spends a little bit finding out what is probably the best way to protect balls from an assault from behind. He’s broken eye contact with Derek, but he can feel Derek’s gaze on him as he does. 

“Okay,” Stiles says when he’s pretty sure he’s okay. Derek reaches out again and does that whole caressing thing all over again, which honestly makes Stiles embarrassed with how hard it makes him. 

It’s just a caress. It shouldn’t be this exciting. It’s not even on his dick. 

“Apple’s the safeword,” says Derek. 

“What is it with you and apples?” Stiles asks. 

“Repeat that you understand the safeword,” Derek says commandingly. Stiles shifts a little. 

“Okay, safeword’s apples,” he says. 

“Good boy,” Derek says, his voice smooth as velvet. Derek has never called him boy, and certainly never  _ good _ . To be honest, it sounds a little weird coming from his lips. It also sounds really freaking hot. Derek’s hand moves up to rest over Stiles' lower back. The pressure is even and holds him down, and then Derek spanks - flogs - him with the board. 

Stiles cries out, more startled than anything. He drops his head down and breathes. It’s definitely harder than Derek’s hand was. It packs more of a punch, but it also bliss out his brain just like Derek’s hand had and Stiles wants more of it. So he tells Derek that. 

“How many?” Derek asks, his voice dark. When his voice drops like that, apparently it does things to Stiles. Like make him rock-hard, for once. 

“Uh, ten?” he asks. 

“You don’t sound sure,” says Derek. 

“Ten,” Stiles says, making sure to sound as authoritative as one can when one gets their ass flogged. Derek hits him again and Stiles gasps, his body involuntary rocking back and forth. Derek pins him down until he reaches ten, and by that point Stiles is trembling and shaking. He might be crying, too, but it’s the kind of crying that means if I don’t come soon I’m going to kill myself. 

Derek places the cutting board on the sofa and his hands are back, trailing over Stiles’ abused asscheeks. Stiles hangs his head, leans into the touch and groans. 

“Oh, fuck me…” he mumbles. 

He’s not paying attention to Derek. His mind is a mush and all he can feel is the way his ass tingles, aches and is so fucking sensitive to Derek’s touch, so when all of the sudden Derek’s tongue is in his ass he startles and tenses. 

But Derek keeps caressing his ass, and his tongue just kind of ghosts past Stiles anus and it kind of feels like making out, except the long way around. Stiles gasps and moans and suddenly Derek has him relaxing and almost melting into it. Derek’s tongue keeps flipping between softly caressing him and then rimming him hard, barely pushing past the rim. 

Stiles may not be an expert at ass-eating, but he’s guessing Derek has done it before. Or he’s a freaking ass-eating genius, because Stiles feels like he’s going insane. His knees tremble, and Derek’s soft, teasing flickers are shooting sparks all the way through his core. 

Time seems to loose all freaking meaning, and Derek continues the torture until Stiles knees actually buckles and the only thing that keeps him up is the couch. 

Derek actually has the nerve to chuckle at him. 

“Derek, please for the love of god, stop teasing and fuck me.” 

“Aren’t we fucking?” Derek asks, sounding smug. Stiles groans. 

“You know what I mean,” he says. He hears Derek stand up and then Derek cups both of his ass-cheeks with his hands. Stiles moans, and one of Derek’s hands moves up over his back and into his hair. 

Derek jerks him up flushed against his naked chest, one arm around him and the other holding harshly at Stiles' hair. 

“I really don’t,” Derek says cruelly and nibbles at his neck. “You want me to drag you off to bed and fuck you into the mattress with my cock?” 

Stiles can’t think of anything he’s ever wanted more at that moment, nor a word that’s sounded filthier than cock when Derek’s lips uttered it. 

“Fuck, yes,” he stutters. 

“Hmm,” Derek says, twists him around and fucking heaves him over his shoulder. Stiles screeches, but Derek only slaps his ass and starts walking up the stairs to Derek’s bed. 

In the bedroom, Derek unceremoniously tosses him belly-down onto the bed. Stiles only has a few seconds to correct his sprawl before Derek is over him, pressing his hot body against Stiles back. 

Stiles whines and Derek makes another hickey at his throat. His hand travels over Stiles side, causing him to shudder and prickle. 

Then Derek pulls away from him and Stiles twists his head in time to see Derek lean over to his nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms. 

Derek was actually going to fuck him. 

Surprisingly, the only real word that fluttered through his head was  _ finally.  _

Derek took his jeans and underwear off and Stiles didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was ogling him. Shirtless Derek happened often; pantless Derek was something completely different. 

Derek popped the lube bottle open and poured out a hefty amount. Stiles watched it hesitantly, because, while he may not be an expert, that amount looked excessive. Although, the only actual gay-sex advice his education had ever gotten him had been a short and awkward “when you think you have enough lube, use more.” 

Derek looked at him. “Ready?” 

“Derek, I swear, I’m so fucking ready” Stiles says and rolls his eyes. “Readier than ready. All systems are go. I’m so ready that if you don’t get a move-on soon I’ll fucking mount you myself.” 

Derek looks thoughtful at that. 

“Maybe later,” he says and his grin actually causes Stiles to blush. Then Derek leans closer and puts a finger at Stiles’ ass. Stiles hides his face in the mattress and moans, and Derek, besides Stiles rant about urgency, takes his fucking time teasing him open. 

First it’s just a finger circling, then slowly it starts to push in a little, and then out. In and out, slowly, with a little more going in every time. 

Stiles moans and rocks back, and realises that since he’s on the bed he can give himself friction on his dick. So obviously he takes full advantage of that and rocks back and forth. Derek hisses and first Stiles thinks he’s going to tell him to stop, but then Derek adds another finger and Stiles realizes that Derek is letting him fuck himself onto Derek’s fingers. 

Which is really fucking hot.

Stiles moans and continues to move, and Derek eventually adds a third finger. 

“Oh, god,” Stiles mumbles, flexing his ass. He needs something to focus on. He’s going insane. Then he catches sight of Derek’s free hand, lying there all abandoned while Derek uses his elbow to keep himself up and Stiles snatch the hand to him and puts Derek’s fingers in his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” Derek moans and Stiles feels delighted. “That’s it.” 

And Derek pulls both the fingers in Stiles ass and the ones in his mouth out. Stiles whines, but Derek gets up on his knees, quickly puts on a condom and pours more lube onto his dick. 

“Just, tell me if I should stop,” Derek says suddenly, arranging himself behind Stiles. 

“Derek, I know the fucking safeword, now fucking do it,” Stiles snaps. 

Derek presses into him, slowly. Stiles’s breath hitch and Derek stops. 

“Should I-?” 

“Move, please,” Stiles moans and rocks backwards. It’s somehow harder to fuck himself onto Derek’s cock - perhaps because of the added weight, but Stiles does his best. “God, please, Derek, move, please.” 

Derek does; rocks into him until he’s fully embedded in him. Stiles arches his back and groans, and Derek pulls out, almost all the way before he pushes back in. His movements cause Stiles’s dick to rub against the mattress and Stiles moans and mewls at every thrust. 

Stiles thinks he’s getting used to it when Derek angles himself slightly and hits his prostate. 

“God, do that again,” he gasps once he stops screaming. Derek huffs behind him and does. Stiles isn’t certain he’s quite conscious. Derek grabs his hair and pushes his head into the mattress and continues to pound against Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles moans just grows louder. 

He’s always been a loud person, but screaming during sex is new. Never happened with Malia. With Derek he can’t stop. Derek thrust into him at a fast, hard rhythm. The slap of skin on skin is everywhere.

“Stiles,” Derek moans, bites him in the neck and hits his prostate. Stiles tense up, the hardest orgasm of his life rocking through his body. He almost blackens out, and he screams, and Derek pounds into his tightening body a few more pumps before he, too, comes. 

Derek collapses on top of him, and Stiles’ breath is knocked out of him but he doesn't mind. Derek’s still inside of him, and Stiles' brain has stopped working. 

“Fucking hell,” Stiles mumble and Derek rolls off of him. 

“That’s it,” Stiles says, trying to catch his breath. “You have officially left me speechless.” 

“And yet you’re talking,” Derek says fondly. Stiles laughs and tilts his head to watch him. Derek pulls off the condom, ties it together and carelessly drops it to the floor. His cheeks look flushed and his chest gleaming with sweat. 

Stiles realises proudly that he has done that; he’s responsible for the way Derek looks thoroughly ravished right now. 

“Now will you let me eat my salad?” Derek asks, pretend grumpily. Stiles grins. 

“Yeah, but only because I need like, thirty minutes to recharge.” Derek rolls his eyes and rolls out of bed. He doesn’t put on clothes, and Stiles stares at his ass as he starts walking. 

“Bring soda, I’m thirsty.” Stiles calls after him. “And bring the salad tongs, those were sexy.” 

“You’re so weird,” Derek calls back, but he does indeed, besides the salad, two forks and soda, bring back the salad tongs. Stiles grins at him and dutifully eats some salad. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment, I live for feedback!
> 
> Also, please don't ask me to explain why in part one I wrote that Stiles had never gotten a blowjob and now he's apparently had sex with Malia. I don't know, maybe because they were young(er). Or maybe they just had really boring, mission-style sex. Consistency, whom?


End file.
